When I was just five years old, my parents separated, setting off a whirlwind of changes. Over the next few years, I experienced moving across the country, attending numerous schools, and witnessing my parents’ turbulent attempts at reconciliation before they ultimately divorced. By the time I was eight, my father had remarried. Although he remained an active part of my life, my childhood was predominantly shaped by my mother, especially after she moved back across the country. My interactions with my dad were limited to summers and holiday breaks.
Despite their good intentions and love, my childhood was riddled with chaos, anxiety, and shattered expectations. While I genuinely believe that divorce was the right decision for them—much like it is for many couples—I cannot escape the impact it had on my perception of marriage and family.
Today, I am fortunate to be in a marriage that stands in stark contrast to my parents’ relationship. My husband, Jake, and I have been together since high school, celebrating 22 years together and 14 years of marriage. Unless faced with an unforeseen disaster, I am confident that our marriage is solid. We share two wonderful sons who are the center of our universe, and we co-parent harmoniously.
However, a lingering part of me still worries that everything will come crashing down, reminiscent of my childhood experiences. This irrational fear resides within me like an unhealed wound, stubbornly refusing to fade away. You would think that after all these years, I would have moved past it, but life is rarely so straightforward.
Most days, I navigate motherhood like anyone else. Although the challenges are expected, certain triggers can instantly transport me back to my younger self, unleashing a torrent of suppressed emotions. On mornings when I prepare my boys for school, I often find myself overwhelmed. With Jake out the door before dawn, the early hours cast a shadow of dread over me. I feel unheard, fatigued, and anxious about my son’s potential tardiness, fearing judgment as a mother.
In those moments, retreating to the bathroom becomes my refuge, where I hear the chaos outside—my boys wrestling and shouting. Sitting there, I think, “I am utterly alone. I bear the weight of everyone’s needs. No one cares about me.” When they refuse to wear their shoes or one of them complains about a heavy backpack, I’m transported back to my mother’s struggles—feeling the weight of the world on her shoulders. I find myself thinking, “I can’t hold everything together. I’m at my limit.”
When Jake finally arrives home, we often argue about trivial matters—like his forgetfulness regarding the trash. He insists I don’t listen, and our discussions spiral into a cycle of blame. Instead of addressing our disagreements, my mind races to darker thoughts. Could this signify the beginning of the end for our marriage? Have I been fooling myself? I start envisioning a future as a divorced family, and the fear takes root.
Children of divorce often find themselves overreacting to minor issues. Loneliness and helplessness can spiral out of control, leading to the belief that any good fortune in life is precariously close to being snatched away.
Over the years, I’ve learned to recognize when I’m succumbing to these feelings, living in the shadows of my past instead of embracing the present. With each passing day, I am finding my footing as an adult, building a family that is distinctly separate from my childhood experiences. Each day offers a fresh opportunity to start anew, to express gratitude for what I have, and to cultivate faith in my current life.
Yet, the remnants of my childhood will always linger in my heart. Acknowledging this truth allows me to nurture the wounded child within me, caring for her just as I care for my own children. I strive to show her that life holds more than the pain of our beginnings—there are second chances and unimagined joys waiting for her.
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Summary:
Navigating motherhood as a child of divorce presents unique challenges, often leading to feelings of anxiety and fear rooted in past experiences. While the author expresses gratitude for her current stable marriage and family life, remnants of childhood trauma sometimes resurface, prompting reflections on loneliness and helplessness. Acknowledging and nurturing the inner child helps in embracing the present and fostering a healthier family dynamic.